


What You Deserve

by Project_Miru



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe: Season 2 rewrite, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Todd Brotzman has low self worth, Todd Brotzman left alone is a ball of angst, Todd Brotzman needs a hug, Why do I like hurting Todd?, more hurt than comfort for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 08:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14996717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project_Miru/pseuds/Project_Miru
Summary: What if Blackwing never went after Todd and Farah, what if Todd never told anyone he developed Pararibulitis? What if we never had the case with Wendimoor? A complete season 2 rewrite focusing on Todd Brotzman and the cluster that is his life after the first attack. Title taken from Neon Trees song 'First Things First'





	What You Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> Please blame the following:
> 
> "My life was ruined, destroyed.  
> I was fired, my apartment was wrecked, I’ve been beaten  
> and, and electrocuted multiple times.  
> I have a disease that puts me in constant fear"
> 
> "Cure my [laughs] You think that’s what this is about? No, I deserve my pararibulitis.  
> I deserve all of this and worse."
> 
> -Todd Brotzman 2x1 Space Rabbit

One Week. One hundred and sixty-eight hours had passed since Todd’s life as he knew it came crashing down after a crippling Pararibulitis attack. An involuntary shudder shook his frame as phantom pains echoed from that day; He’d had worse since but that first attack... Fuck, if he’d known how bad the disease was, he’d never have lied all those years ago.

 ** _That’s a lie and you know it, you saw how bad things were for Aunt Esther. You. Just. Didn’t. Care._** That voice in his head hissed.

God, that voice in his head had been on a tear lately between Dirk’s disappearance, Farah’s quest for answers, Amanda’s … His heart clenched as he thought of his little sister, he was the worst. The eldest Brotzman didn’t even know if she was okay, the patchy distress call was the last he heard from her.

 _The timing couldn’t have been better,_ he considered cynically. 

* * *

 

_1 Week Prior:_

He’d, thankfully, lost consciousness sometime after the acid ate through most of the flesh of his extremities only to awaken roughly ten minutes after the initial attack. Shocked that no one seemed to notice his episode or absence, he’d stumbled his way back to their booth only to find it abandoned. His blood ran cold as he remembered his sisters frantic message, for a moment he’d thought he was having another attack. _Blackwing_. It had to be Blackwing. That meant Dirk was in danger, _shit!_ His internal meltdown was halted by Farah Black frantically storming back into the diner, he hid his trembling hands in his pockets.

“We have to go, now.” The bodyguard said levelly as she hooked Todd’s elbow, steering him out of the suddenly cramped diner. She leads him to a small, unremarkable, sedan parked a few shops down; gesturing for him to get in the passenger side as she entered the drivers. She didn’t say a word until they drove off, considering the rearview mirror every so often.

“Dirk is gone. He went outside, I let him go, I shouldn’t have let him go by himself but I. I couldn’t have _known_ anything would happen. But, something didn’t feel right; I went out to look for him and a black van with government plates tore out of the alleyway beside the diner. Ugh, I never should have let him out of my sight. **Stupid**.”

 How was she able to say all that without taking a single breath? Wait, _shit._  Blackwing had Dirk. His heart pounded in his chest, they might have Amanda… Farah tapped at the center console, pulling up her phones contacts, she paused at the name ‘Dt. Estevez’. The ringing of the phone echoed through the sedan, Estevez never picked up. A sinking feeling overcame him, Estevez hadn’t seemed the type to let a call go unanswered.

“Amanda. We need to see if Amanda is okay.”

“What, why?”

“She called me. Despite everything that happened between us, she called _me_.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, “She said someone was after them and the call dropped.” He’d avoided the whole truth yet again. **_Lie by omission, nice going. So much for being honest._** That voice was relentless, Todd slouched further into the seat, his gaze kept on the paper floormat.

Moments passed, Farah maneuvered the car through countless twists and turns. Gradually the cityscape gave way to more suburban scenery. By the time Todd realized it, they were already on Amanda’s block. The bodyguard drove past the house, casing the building, before coming to a stop a few houses down.

“We do this quickly and quietly. For all we know, Blackwing could have eyes on the building. If they don’t have her, they may be watching to see if she returns. That’s all depending on if she’s a person of interest, we should be relatively fine, they had plenty of opportunities to detain us. We'll be fine as long as we move quickly.”

Farah put the car in park, double checking her firearm before exiting the vehicle. The brunette scrambled from his seat, fumbling with the seatbelt before emerging from his side, the knuckleduster she’d given him before a comfortable weight in his front pocket. She strode towards the house with a purpose and Todd dutifully tried to keep pace despite the height differential.

The front door was ignored in favor of the side entrance. Todd was supremely grateful Amanda didn’t take her key back after hearing the truth. The door swung open with a creak and it soon became evident that Amanda hadn’t been there in a few days. He hated himself a little more as an idea struck him, **Promadivan** , Amanda’s medication. She’d refilled her prescription shortly before all the craziness that’d recently became their lives. There was a good chance she’d left the pills behind due to the Rowdy 3’s collective ability.

  ** _Is this why you_ really _wanted to come here? Are you really going to steal your sister’s medication? Do you give any shits about whether she’s alright or not?_**   Was he really going to do it? What if she wasn’t with the Rowdy 3? she’d need her pills to fend off a serious attack. **You** _**need them to fend off a serious attack,**_ the voice sneered. Self-loathing ate away at Todd like acid as he conceded. He strode into the bathroom while Farah was preoccupied, pulled open the medicine cabinet- there they were. A new ninety-day supply bottle with a much emptier bottle beside it. He warred with himself over which bottle to take, if Amanda were to come back he would never want her to be without her medication. He deserved to go without after everything he’d done.

 Eyes darting between the two, he finally settled on the less full bottle. Don’t take more than you need.   _More than you deserve you mean._ He hated himself a little more as he opened the bottle, about a third of the way full. Todd knew the dosing by heart, He shook out two pills and swallowed them dry, pocketing the bottle in his jeans. The pills would last him a little over a month, maybe less if the attacks were frequent. Sparing one last look at himself in the mirror, he left the room behind him to meet Farah in the living room.

“Anything?”

“Nothing, she even left her Promadivan behind.”

“And she needs those for her attacks, right?”

“Until the Rowdy 3 came along. I’m going to take a bottle back to my place in case she shows up.”

 _ **That’s it, make that hole your digging yourself a little deeper. Just another lie, you really can’t stop yourself, can you?** _ Remember to blink, that was the trick, keep your breathing level, don’t stand too stiff. Master these and you maybe lie convincingly. These were all red flags Farah would see like a beacon, she’d been trained well. Todd hoped any change in his breathing would be attributed as stress over his sister.

Farah raised her brow, something about all this didn’t quite sit right. She calculated their current situation and nodded her head in affirmation. One final cursory glance around the home and it was time to go. The car ride back to the Ridgley was a quiet one, the radio turned low and interrupted by a few more failed calls to Estevez. The familiar brick façade of the Ridgley was just as nondescript as ever, Farah ordered Todd to say close behind her as they slowly made their way back to his apartment. If Todd’s eyes lingered a second too long on the holistic detectives’ door before climbing the stairs, so be it. Having never replaced the lock to his own door, the door swung open effortlessly. Farah cleared the apartment, checking each room and closet before breathing deeply.

“It doesn’t make sense. By all intents and purposes, we should have been at the _very least_ apprehended. An organization like Blackwing would want to stay hidden. They’d want to eliminate loose ends. So why haven’t they?” She rambled under her breath as she paced the only small strip of living room not still covered in debris. God, he’d have to clean this whole place. He cursed the Rowdy 3 for the umpteenth time for ransacking his apartment. The bodyguard tapped her fingers along her side as she continued to pace, muttering something Todd couldn’t hear as she stepped. Reaching into her back pocket; Farah withdrew her phone, another attempt to contact the non-holistic detective. No answer.

“Something isn’t right. Well, more than already. I. I’m going to head to the station. Todd, I want you to stay here. Not here in your apartment because an errant wind would push that door open. They had the perfect opportunity to apprehend us at the diner. I have reason to believe that somehow, we are not targets. Dirk’s apartment has probably already been searched, but I can’t be sure. That being said, the apartment upstairs is still empty. I want you to stay up there while I check on Estevez. If something is going on I need to be able to work effectively and I cannot do that if I am diverting focus on making sure you don’t do anything stupid. I mean. Not that you’d purposely do something stupid. You’re not trained for anything like this, I am.” She said matter-of-fact.

She had a point, Todd agreed nodding his head. He was a liability now. His apartment was unsafe and if Amanda were to show up, the upstairs unit had a fire escape above his. He’d see her coming. You really think she’d come here. To you?

 _“_ You’re right, I’m a liability in this.” She looked as though she’d expected him to argue, biting her lip in contemplation. The two walked to the door, ascending the stairs at the end of the hall once more. The upstairs hallway was like antithesis of the other floors, dim lighting and dingy wallpaper painting a dismal scene. The crime scene had been taped off, the lock was quickly picked with a handy bobbypin. The cops had removed the body from the room and the blood cleaned away as soon as the CI’s collected their evidence.

 Todd flicked the light switch by the door, a dim red light made little difference in the room paired with the blackout shades. The room was pretty barren, bloodied sheets from the bed had been collected as evidence leaving the only piece of furniture bare. Todd cringed internally at the prospect of being left in this room. Farah seemed hesitant to leave him, caught between not wanted to spend any more time in this room herself and being reassuring.

“I’ll be fine, just hurry back, okay?” The Brotzman reassured her, moving to the curtain, pulling it aside to allow sunlight into the room. It wasn’t so ominous with the natural lighting. Not anywhere he’d choose to be if possible but beggars could not be choosers. Nodding in acknowledgment, Farah moved towards the door,

“I’ll keep my phone on me. Don’t let anyone in that door except me. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

Farah took her leave, Todd watched from the window as she got into the car and drove away. He dialed his sister a few more times, each call going straight to voicemail, he didn’t really blame her. Not for the first time in the past few weeks he contemplated his life and how things got so far out of hand. Slouching down to the floor below the window; he tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. God, why had everything become so complicated? Had it always been this bad? He slid his legs out in front of him, hands coming to a rest at his sides landing on the hardwood with a dull thud.

 He took another look around the room, it didn’t look like an active crime scene truth be told. It had been cleaned, those little yellow evidence markers he’d seen in crime dramas were absent. Apart from the bullet hole in the floor by the bed and the mattress it almost looked like the room were being readied to be put back on the market. That was odd, he thought. When did the cops even find out about the body upstairs? Had Farah told them after she’d escaped? When would she have had time to do that with all the craziness of the last two weeks. The more Todd thought of the situation the more his unease grew. The wrongness of the whole situation knotted his stomach.

As his discomfort grew, a sharp pain in his abdomen blossomed. _Don’t look down, it’s not real._ **_It’s real to you now._** He bit his lip as another wave of pain crashed through him; he looked down, crimson stained his shirt around the rather impressive knife sticking out of his stomach. The coppery taste of blood on his tongue as he tried to stifle a scream with his fist. Pained tears streamed down his face. The pills, he still had the pills, right? With one hand pressed to his mouth he reached into his left pocket for the orange bottle, each tiny movement pulling at the rather impressive knife wound. Relief poured over him as he got the orange bottle in hand, he removed the hand from his mouth to undo the child-safe cap. That relief quickly melted away as his grip continued to slip due to the blood that had been trickling from his lips. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, It’s just a lid. He switched hands, hoping to get a better grip on the bottle. After much too long the cap finally popped off, unsteadily he shook out the necessary dose and tossed it back, swallowing the pills dry. Waiting was the worst, he thought back to every one of Amanda’s attacks. He’d felt miserable then for not being able to do anything to take away her pain sooner. He now knew without any uncertainty that being afflicted and waiting for an attack to end was worse. There was nothing to do but wait. Over time the pain in his abdomen lessened slowly from literal stabbing agony to dull throb, the knife took longer to disappear taking the last of the pain with it and the metallic taste was the last to leave him- leaving only the bitter aftertaste of promadivan in its wake.

He closed the bottle and shoved it back in his pocket, shakily wiping the tear tracks from his face. This was life now. He was fucked. A regular refill would set him back $300, he was unemployed. Shit, he was unemployed, had no fucking health insurance with an expensive medical disorder, his sister and his best friend were missing, the police had him listed as a person of interest, the government may or may not have been after him... He halted that downward spiral in its tracks not wanting to work himself up into another attack. **_Save the pills, you’re gonna need em._** He hated that voice in his head as much as he was sure it hated him, but it was right. He sat there on the floor, waiting for Farah’s return.

* * *

 

_Outside the Station:_

Estavez was dead. The official report said ‘self-inflicted gunshot wounds’. Who shoots themselves in the chest, _multiple_ times? It didn’t add up and screamed cover up. Farah was convinced and rightfully so. All papers relating to the Springs’ individual (but completely connected) cases were gone from the department. No officer would tell her anything apart from the feds were taking over the case. Not a single person would look her in the eye about Estavez. Or Doyle, the only response she’d gotten regarding the captain was that he was “out”. Frustrated, she’d left the station to return to the apartment. She scrolled through her contacts, pausing on the name “Eddie” before finally tapping the call button.

“Eddie, we need to talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been rattling around in my brain since initially watching 2x1. Update due by June 28th, im shooting for weekly updates. I'll work on the formatting. Opening paragraph did a little bit of a time warp. Most if not all of chapter 2 will take place within proper time, just needed to provide backdrop for setting.


End file.
